


draped in jewels to look the part

by yukjaem



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, chensung’s just along for the ride, jeno and mark are sons of a rich ceo, nahyuck are model rivals, yukhei and renjun are security guards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 20:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16002890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukjaem/pseuds/yukjaem
Summary: fake dating: a well-worn trope, in which fate conspires to lead two people to pretend to be in a relationship, only to inevitably fall in love.jeno isn't sure how his life turned into a typical romance story, but here he is.





	draped in jewels to look the part

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [pretty little gangster](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujgQOosyIYk) by ryder

"Tell me again why I'm here."

Jeno presses his back against the wall, tucking himself into the far corner of the room. Renjun raises his eyebrows. "Because you want underprivileged kids to get the education they need?"

Catching the cold gleam in Renjun's eyes, Jeno groans. "You know what I mean. I'd enjoy this so much more if people actually cared about that." He rubs his eyes. "But _no,_ all they want to talk about is my dad's shitty company! As if I know anything. They'd waste less time if they went to Mark hyung in the first place."

"First world problems, much?" Renjun says dryly. As Jeno’s friend, he indulges him with small talk, but as a security guard, his eyes quickly flicker back to the crowd, scouring for any hints of disturbances. “All you’ve gotta do is stand around and look nice. It’s not a big deal, especially since it’s for a _good cause.”_

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeno slides down the wall with a pout. He knows Renjun’s right.

The annual Lee Foundation Gala. It's a world Jeno's used to, with chandeliers swinging from high ceilings, champagne in crystal glasses and twinkling laughter. There’s a string quartet playing on the upper level and people dancing below them. This year’s gala has a more classical theme, with the ladies adorned in jewels and sequins and the men looking equally as dashing as their female counterparts.

A few might use the gala as an excuse to show off their wealth—Jeno’s father being one of them—but at least it’s for a good cause. The auction charity at the gala always manages to raise an obscene amount of money.

And his brother seems to be enjoying himself too. Jeno spots Mark on the other side of the room, surrounded by people and looking very much in his element.

Still.

"Good cause or not, I’m fucking bored.”

Renjun opens his mouth to reply, pauses, and narrows his eyes. When Jeno follows his line of sight, his lips curl in distaste. This is one of the reasons why he can’t stand these galas. With so many wannabe celebrities vying for attention, there’s bound to be drama.

A circle of onlookers has already formed around high fashion models, Donghyuck Lee and Jaemin Na.

Donghyuck has a bottle of champagne angled at Jaemin’s chest. The last few drops sputter out weakly onto the floor. Most of the champagne had already hit Jaemin straight on, soaking through his crisp white collared shirt so that it clings to his body. Jaemin doesn’t look bothered though. He’s smirking even, lips no doubt moving to form an insult.

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Renjun mutters, popping his knuckles like a line of firecrackers as he gets ready to move. There's a camera flashing nearby; how the press manages to sneak in every year, Jeno will never know. "Makes me wish I could put them in a chokehold—"

Jeno pulls him back. "Hold on, I'll take care of it. You've dealt with enough spoiled brats today."

Renjun bares his teeth. "Glad to see you're self-aware."

He dips his head in thanks anyway, sidestepping to let Jeno through. Taking a deep breath, Jeno walks closer to the scene, portraying confidence with his chin up and back straight. He gestures at Yukhei, another security guard, to deal with the unwanted press.

The crowd slowly disperses, forming a path that leads him directly to the models. They don't seem to notice nor care as the voices around them quiet down, the high-strung tension palpable in the air.

Even if Jeno typically avoids social media and all the drama that it entails, he's still heard of Donghyuck and Jaemin, two upstart models with a silver tongue and tendency to snap. They're in rival modelling agencies, both proud to the point of arrogance, ambitious and in-demand, young and pretty—more like pretty toxic.

He couldn't care less about toxic, attention-seeking models, but this is supposed to be a charity event and they should respect that much. Mark’s starting to look fretful, and Jeno waves him off. Let him worry about his own matters; he’s got this.

As Jeno approaches, he catches the last couple of words spilling out of Donghyuck's mouth:

"—From your eyeshadow to your patented brand of dry lips. Honestly, that should be a crime."

Yukhei finally arrives and grabs hold of the journalist, a lanky teenager with squinty eyes, at the same time Jaemin draws his hand back for a slap. Donghyuck’s watching him with a little smile.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Jeno says, taking Jaemin’s wrist in a loose grip and smoothly dragging it down to his side. “Would you like to borrow a new shirt, Jaemin?”

Donghyuck purses his lips, eyeing him up and down like a predator sizing up his prey. Jeno ignores him—he has better things to do than play someone else's game of cat and mouse—and waits for Jaemin to respond.

“Who do you think…” Jaemin looks surprised to see him. “...Jeno Lee?”

“Yup,” Jeno affirms with his signature eye smile. “I hope this...accident doesn't ruin your experience at my family's gala."

"Truly such an _unfortunate_ accident," says Donghyuck, voice falsely saccharine. He hands the empty bottle of champagne to the teenage journalist, who’s still being held back by Yukhei.

Jaemin sends him a glare, but it lacks any real heat, and Donghyuck seems far more preoccupied with Yukhei. It's like they've lost interest in each other. Like, in that brief second of an interlude, they're already over whatever they were fighting about. Jeno shakes his head; people, specifically these two catty models, don’t make sense sometimes.

"What do you think you're doing with my friend?" Donghyuck's asking Yukhei, who stutters and mutters a “Press aren’t allowed.”

Donghyuck places a hand on his hip. “Who said anything about the press? That’s my _friend_ you’re holding hostage right there.”

“But he has a camera—”

“How does a camera have to do anything? I told you, he’s my friend and he was taking my picture for fun, nothing else.”

“But you guys were fighting—”

“Yukhei,” Jeno cuts in, feeling bad for having dragged the security guard into this. “If he says he’s his friend, it’s fine. Let him go.”

Yukhei sighs in relief. “You got it, boss man.”

He releases the teen like he’s been burned and immediately turns tail, throwing half-assed apologies behind his back. Donghyuck doesn’t let him go that easily. He latches onto his arm, his supposed “friend” following close at his heels with a camera. Yukhei’s look of fear is priceless, and Jeno wants to help him—truly, he does—but then he’s reminded of his own problem when Jaemin slides his hand up and interlocks their fingers.

He jolts in surprise. “Um.”

"You said you have a shirt that I can borrow?"

Jeno swallows, his heart fluttering without his consent. "Yeah."

"Then lead the way, Jeno."

Surely, Yukhei will be fine on his own.

 

 

 

If Jeno hadn't been such a good friend, he never would've offered to go in Renjun’s place. Never would've grabbed Jaemin and played peacemaker. And maybe then, he wouldn't be in his current, embarrassing situation.

The things he does in the name of friendship. (Never again.)

It’s typically their butler’s job to fetch a guest clean clothing after a nasty spill—which, surprisingly enough, happens pretty often. Jeno has no idea why the thought hadn’t crossed his mind earlier, now that there’s a shirtless Jaemin sitting on _his_ bed, in _his_ room.

Did he mention that Jaemin’s shirtless?

“You can take one of my new shirts. There’s plenty I’ve never worn," Jeno says, feigning composure. He feels his cheeks redden anyway.

Jaemin hums in reply, distracted as his eyes wander the room. Jeno doesn't let it deter him and sifts through the back of his walk-in closet, where he keeps his collared shirts in a neat, orderly row.

Jaemin, unlike the majority of the formally dressed guests, had been wearing a nondescript white blouse with the top few buttons left undone. He doesn't seem to care much about it, if the crumpled shirt by the foot of the bed is any indication. Jeno takes out his oversized brioni cotton dress shirt; he doesn't ever remember wearing it and it looks similar enough.

"We should be around the same size," he considers. His gaze wanders in Jaemin's general direction, never fully resting on one spot.

“You sure you don’t want to get your shirt cleaned?" he asks, after a pause and Jaemin still hasn't said anything. "We can probably remove the stain.”

Jaemin shrugs, an easy motion. "It's alright.”

Jeno's arm hovers awkwardly, the white brioni shirt hanging loosely from his hand. Instead of taking it, Jaemin lets his hands catch the weight of his body as he leans back, showing off the main point of his outfit—his jewelry. He’s wearing a thick sparkly choker, which connects to three thin diamond necklaces. They drape over his chest, dipping into the ridge of his collarbones and trailing over his sternum.

As Jeno can’t help but let his eyes wander down, he wonders, vaguely, in the back of his mind, if Jaemin works out. It’ll make sense if he does.

When he finally meets Jaemin’s knowing gaze, the model arches an eyebrow as if to say, _Like what you see?_

Jeno feels the tip of his ears flush pink. "Are you gonna take the shirt or...?"

Jaemin's smile broadens. "In a sec."

He bounces off the bed. His silver "JAEMIN" earring shimmers in the light as he pushes past Jeno, sauntering towards his desk and settling into the plush, comfy chair like he’s at home. Without hesitation, he slips into Jeno’s lazy-at-home green hoodie that he’d thrown over the back of the chair earlier today.

He pulls down his sleeves and fixes the hem before mumbling, “This should do, thanks.”

Jeno blinks, taken aback. “Thanks for asking?”

"You did say I could borrow a shirt," Jaemin says teasingly. "I like this one. It's warm and smells nice."

That's like implying Jeno smells nice—which he does, mind you, like evergreen cologne—but even then. Who says that kind of thing?

(Flirts, that’s who, and Jeno isn’t sure he likes where this is going.)

Plus, that’s his favourite hoodie, and he kind of wants it back. The words remain stuck at the back of his throat though, and he can’t bring himself to spit them out. His mouth drops into an “o” shape without making a single sound.

Jaemin spins a one-eighty in his chair and pushes himself towards the tall wooden shelf propped against the wall. There's a few photo frames, expensive gifts from family and friends, souvenirs from Jeno’s father from when he went abroad, and other miscellaneous objects he’s collected over the years.

"Can I look at this?" Jaemin asks, much to Jeno's surprise. He'd half expected the model to forge ahead without a second thought.

"Uh," he says, eyeing the shelf critically. "Yeah, sure."

“You sure?" Jaemin gestures at the stack of notebooks on the lower shelf.

"I have nothing to hide," Jeno says firmly.

It should feel weird; having a practical stranger examining his personal belongings, even if he's given him permission. Jeno finds that he doesn't mind though, and that's what makes it even weirder.

"Aw, you were such a cute kid," Jaemin coos, holding a photo of toddler Jeno's milk commercial. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s his famous eye smile. "What happened?"

"What?" Jeno says dumbly.

Jaemin winks. "Puberty hit you like a truck and you grew hot, that's what."

There’s a short silence. Jeno fidgets, digging his hands into his pockets, and says, very eloquently, “Oh.”

He’s not as good with people as Mark is with his innate ability to draw people in, or as approachable as Yukhei is with his loud ass personality, but Jeno likes to believe he’s not totally socially inept. And he’s not, he’s really not. It’s just—Jaemin. Flirting? With him?

"Oh, stop it," Jaemin bursts into giggles, hiding a smile behind his sweater paws. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Relax. I’m just kidding, y’know.”

"I knew that," Jeno protests, at the same time Jaemin wriggles his eyebrows and says, "Or am I?"

Jeno stares at Jaemin, and Jaemin stares back.

He deems it unnecessary to respond—falls back onto his bed and takes out his phone, opening his twitter to scroll through his feed. It’s not his best moment, but he’s too exhausted to try and explain himself.

“Okaaay,” he hears Jaemin drawl, slowly.

Jeno ignores him, and frowns down at his phone. There’s already a video circulating around, of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s big fight. It ends abruptly, right before Jaemin raises his hand to slap Donghyuck. The tweet has over fifty thousand retweets and likes, and is gaining more by the second. A lot of people seem entertained by it, for some reason, and Jeno knows that by the end of the day, both Donghyuck and Jaemin will profit off the extra attention.

Jaemin, Jeno reminds himself, is toxic, and he doesn’t need that kind of people in his life.

"Okay, either you’re homophobic in this day and age, a closeted gay, or literally can’t take a joke,” Jaemin finally says. When Jeno stares at him, unimpressed, Jaemin worries his bottom lip before relenting. “Or I made you super uncomfortable. Sorry. You could’ve told me and I would’ve stopped. It’s just flirting is...y’know, part of my personality. Nothing personal.”

Jeno feels bad, because Jaemin looks so crestfallen, his eyes huge and lips downturned. He turns off his phone and sits back up on his bed, scratching the back of his head with a sigh. “Whatever. Don’t let me stop you from acting however you want to. It’s fine.”

It’s not, but Jaemin’s already brightening up, and he’s scouring through Jeno’s shelf with a renewed interest, and he’s picking up another photo frame—this one was taken with Mark last year during their so-called vacation in Paris, which was really just another one of their father’s business trips—and complimenting Jeno’s “cute” smile, so he doesn’t do anything but eek out a small, “Thanks.” Jaemin waves away his shyness.

There’s another photo. “Where was this?”

“Incheon, Korea, my dad’s hometown.”

Jaemin looks at him curiously. “Not yours?”

“Nah, I was born and raised here.” Here, as in, Atlanta, Georgia. His father’s always harping on how lucky he and Mark are, growing up without having to worry about money, as if he hadn’t been well-off before he started his oil business anyway.

“Can’t relate,” says Jaemin. Before Jeno can ask, he moves on, picking up a trophy on the edge of the shelf. He squints down at the engravings.

“I was captain of my school’s basketball team,” Jeno offers.

“Were you any good?”

“I dunno, look at the trophy. We _did_ win first place in the nationals.”

"You're lucky I didn't have time for sports during high school," Jaemin says. He sticks out his tongue playfully. "Then your team would've gotten second place."

"Oh yeah?"

Jaemin appraises him. "I'm taller than you. So, yeah."

He tilts his chin up in defiance, as if daring Jeno to disagree. Jeno stands up, well aware that Jaemin's right—the model has longer legs and is, therefore, a tiny bit taller—but he isn't one to back down from a challenge.

"So what? Height doesn’t matter when I got better skills," he says, not because he has an ego but because it's the truth. Jaemin smirks, and takes a step closer. It takes all of Jeno's willpower not to back off. He's too close, close enough to feel Jaemin's soft breath against his skin.

"And how're you gonna prove that?" Jaemin asks.

"We can have a one-on-one match one day. And you'll lose, of course," Jeno replies.

"Sounds fun. We can get all hot and sweaty. Take off our shirts. Then you'll get distracted and lose, of course."

Jaemin presses the tip of his fingers against Jeno's chest, and pushes gently. Jeno falls back, a stumbling three steps before the back of his thighs hits his bed. He leans forward to regain his balance, feeling dizzy like a drunk. He should be offended, and he kinda is, but Jaemin's smile is so teasing and so infectious, that Jeno's mirroring his smile before he even realises it.

When Jaemin flirts—which is all the time—it seems to come to him naturally. His pick-up lines are cringy enough to make Jeno want to cover his eyes in second-hand embarrassment. But he can be subtle too, like when his eyes drop down to Jeno's lips or when he plays with his jewelry, bringing attention to his bare neck.

None of it is supposed to mean anything though. It’s all for fun, and, if anything, Jeno prefers this Jaemin over the one at the party, just a few minutes earlier. This Jaemin seems...different. More down-to-earth and open, if that makes sense. Like underneath the tough, toxic exterior that the public sees, he's actually sweet.

Not that Jeno knows him well enough. Just an impression he gets.

When Jaemin's asked about nearly everything minus the notebooks, after he's fumbled with priceless gifts and nearly dropped a few with a high-pitched yelp, he says, "Finally something not worth more than my entire life’s savings,” as if he isn’t one of America’s most sought-after models. He turns over to let Jeno see the photo in hand. "Who're they? I recognise the tall one from earlier."

"That’s Yukhei. The short one's Renjun. They work as security guards for my family, but Mark and I consider them as close friends."

"They're cute. Renjun especially..."

"Renjun may be tiny but he's terrifying," Jeno interrupts.

"...But not as cute as you," Jaemin finishes with an exaggerated wink.

Jeno gives him a bland look. "That was cheesy. Predictable even."

“But you’re still affected.”

“Am not!”

“Your red cheeks say otherwise,” Jaemin says in a singsong voice.

Jeno slaps his hands against his cheeks with a scowl. Yes, he _is_ blushing—curse his body for reacting.

Jaemin walks closer, made comfortable by Jeno's nervous replies, and if Jeno hadn't known any better, he would've thought they were in Jaemin's room— _his_ territory—and not vice versa. Jaemin leans in, and Jeno subconsciously mimics the action as Jaemin runs his fingers through his gelled hair.

Jeno sighs. "What are you doing? You're gonna get my hair all messy."

"I know. You seriously need to like, loosen up. Literally, you act _and_ look stiff."

Jaemin's fingers brush against the back of Jeno's neck, cold metal rings pressed against his skin. He's covered in jewelry, Jeno notices again, with necklaces, piercings and rings draped over his body like a bedazzled armour, his silver words as his choice of weapon. Jaemin lowers his hands, bringing them back to the front to loosen Jeno's tie and dress shirt. Purses his lips before messing with his hair again.

His lips look soft and pink but, like Donghyuck had said, kinda chapped. It’s not _that_ bad, per se, but he could probably invest in some lip balm.

"Eyes up here," Jaemin purrs.

Jeno jerks up, flustered. “I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what? Staring at me? Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Jaemin takes a step back, smiling like the cat that got the cream. The corner of his eyes crinkle. There's a glimmer of pink eyeshadow painted on his eyelids and gold on on the apple of his cheeks. His lashes look long and shimmery.

"Your makeup looks nice," stammers out Jeno, when he really means to say, _You look really fucking pretty._

Not like that matter or anything, because before Jeno can retract his sentence or Jaemin can react, there's a knock on the door and Renjun’s voice goes, flatly: "Jeno! Your dad wants you at the auction when it starts in a few minutes. So hurry your ass up and stop messing around with that pretty boy!"

Jaemin tilts his head in amusement when Jeno rushes out, his clothes still in disarray, and says, "You can grab a new shirt from my closet, if you want," before letting the door slam shut behind him.

 

 

 

From across the room, Renjun arches an eyebrow as Jeno staggers to the front and takes his delegated place beside Mark. Jeno tries not to pay him any mind.

"Where were you?" Mark hisses lowly, frowning. "And why do you look like just got mauled by a cat, but without all the scratches?"

"Took a break from the party, that's all. You know I don't work well with these kinds of people," Jeno whispers back. He smoothes out his hair, fixes his tie and shirt, and shifts uncomfortably. He purposely avoids his father's gaze, although he can feel his disappointment weighing him down.

Mark clucks his tongue in sympathy. "Alright."

The charity auction starts without much fanfare. Jeno doesn't understand why his father wanted him there—all he does is observe from the sidelines as his father places a few bids here and there, wins a few, then loses others for the sake of "baiting" his rivals.

"They didn't win anything; they overpaid," he tells Mark, as if you can overpay charity.

Mark nods along like how he's supposed to, and Jeno just...sits there, feeling useless and very much like a fool as their father pats his brother's shoulder in quiet approval.

As soon as the last auction piece, a diamond necklace, is sold for a whopping $10 million and people start to mingle once again, showing off the recent additions to their collections, a familiar high-pitched voice squeals, "Jeno hyung!"

Jeno whips his head around. "Chenle?"

Chenle waves his arm, jumping up and down like a child, a huge grin on his face. "Over here!"

He's walking towards them, moving in between other tables, and Jeno stands up to meet him halfway. He loops his arm around Chenle's shoulder, careful not to wrinkle his suit.

"How've you been, Lele?" he asks, genuinely happy to see him. Chenle's like a little brother to him; they used to play together whenever their parents talked business. Two years ago, Chenle had developed a music software that was supposed to belong to his parents' company, but a judge disagreed and Chenle went on to earn his first billion dollars, now his own boss at the tender age of seventeen.

"Great! I got that last diamond necklace for my mother," Chenle divulges with a sheepish grin.

"Your mother?" Jeno asks, directing them back to the front to retrieve the necklace. "I thought you were on bad terms with your parents after you..."

After he left and started his own company under his own name. After he became independent.

 _Smart kid,_ Jeno thinks with a healthy dose of envy. He could never do the same.

"Nah.” Chenle shakes his head with the same sheepish grin. “I mean at first, sure, but my parents forgave me. We're family, after all."

Of course, because family stick together no matter what.

Jeno changes the subject to Chenle’s trip to Shanghai, and they keep each other company for the rest of the night, catching up on trivial matters and Chenle’s recent ventures. Mark drops by to say hi too, hugging Chenle tightly and mouthing a silent “sorry” to Jeno. Jeno waves away his apology. There’s nothing for Mark to apologize for.

It's not until he bids Chenle farewell (“Let’s meet up sometime soon!”), the last few guests trickle out and the servants begin cleaning, and Jeno retires to his room, exhausted, that he notices his favourite green hoodie still gone.

He never did see Jaemin at the party again.

 

 

 

 

 

Jeno wakes up the next day with bleary eyes and a headache. He rolls out of bed, pointedly ignores his phone buzzing with notifications, and plucks out a notebook from his bottom shelf. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he sings softly out of tune as he scribbles across the page. The lyrics aren't anything much—half-formed thoughts from last night and words that sound interesting, nothing that could be considered a song yet. But he’s got notebooks and notebooks filled with little snippets of his dreams and emotions, and maybe someday they’ll form something worth showing the world.

Jaemin never touched the bottom shelf, and Jeno wonders if he knew the notebooks meant more to him than he let on. Or maybe he just didn't think they'd be an interesting read.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, piecing together words of a song to describe the gold and silver on his body, when he hears a knock at the door. It's their family butler, reminding him that his father wants him down for breakfast. Of course, that means Jeno has to change into something more suitable to his father’s standards, rather than his crumpled t-shirt and boxers. He sighs, and goes to get ready.

"G'morning," he yawns, feet dragging down the stairs, heading into the dining room. His father glances up in brief acknowledgement.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Mark says fondly. His gold-rimmed glasses slip down his nose when he leans forward, concern bleeding into his voice. "Did you check your phone yet?"

"No?"

Jeno slides into his seat across from Mark, side-eyeing his father. No reaction; he's eating his egg omelette in peace.

Mark mutters something underneath his breath, then takes out his phone and unlocks it—taps around on it for a few moments before facing it towards Jeno.

There's a picture of him on Mark's phone. There's a picture of Jaemin on Mark's phone. From last night.

In the first photo, Jeno's arrived just in time for the auction, hair mussed and tie crooked with a flushed look on his face. Next, there's Jaemin; he's wearing Jeno's hoodie, walking out of their living quarters (off-bounds to guests), and his little smirk’s captured in the second of the snapshot.

Above the images, it's titled with a tacky, _Jeno Lee And Male Model...in a secret GAY relationship?_

Jeno sucks in a breath, because he has no idea what else to do. In a distant, weird sort of way, Jeno thinks that Jaemin deserves better than to be simply dubbed as a “male model,” with no name mentioned whatsoever. He’s probably even more famous than Jeno. If anything, Jeno should be the one labelled as the son of a multibillionaire, or something along those lines.

“Shit,” he whispers.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out to scroll down the article.

There's another picture of him in a green hoodie, its logo faded and the hems slightly frayed, the exact same as the one Jaemin was wearing. A quick scan of the article has them labelled as _“friends with benefits.”_ There’s even a quote from an interview back in 2017, where he said, _"A must-have item for when I travel...? My favourite green hoodie, for sure. I can’t go anywhere without it."_

"It's not what it looks like," Jeno says immediately. "We’re not together, and it’s not like we did...anything. I lent him my hoodie, that’s it."

The part where Jeno's supposed to confirm that he isn’t gay is left unsaid, and Mark smiles gently at him, understanding. Then his gaze hardens subtly, his eyes flickering back to their father.

There's a stiffness between them that wasn't there before, and suddenly, Jeno finds it hard to breathe.

His father wipes his mouth with a napkin, his lips stretched in a thin line—his expression inscrutable. After a lengthy pause, he finally says, very calmly, as if discussing the weather, "You're gay?"

Jeno isn’t ready to come out yet, but it looks like he's left with no choice. Despite everything, he can’t lie to his father; at least, not about this.

And he wants to answer. To be brave. Really, he does. But he feels overwhelmed and like he might fade away to black, and he'd rather not do that. So he focuses on breathing, until he can force the strange, swimmy thoughts whirling in his mind to disappear, just for a moment.

He exhales. "Yeah, I'm gay."

There's a load off his chest when he says it aloud, a certain feeling of weightlessness that wasn't there before. Mark sends him a thumbs up, a proud look on his face.

Their father nods shortly, expressionless. "Thank you for being honest with me."

Jeno blinks at him. "You don't mind?"

He isn't sure what he expected. Publicly, the Lee Family supports LGBTQ+ rights and other such movements, but that hardly means anything. His father will do anything if he believes it'll help the company's image. Perhaps that entails supporting his gay son should he choose to properly come out. _(Or perhaps,_ a traitorous part in Jeno thinks, _he loves and supports me no matter what.)_

"As long as one of my sons can still continue the bloodline, I'm fine with it," he states. “Mark, I’m talking about you, now.”

Nevermind. Jeno can't say he's surprised. He glances at Mark and notices him visibly wince, his shoulders tightening. He doesn't say anything.

"However, your 'friends with benefit' situation isn't ideal. You look flighty, like you're likely to run off with another boy every week. The public won't be able to tolerate you this way," his father continues, oblivious to the discomfort he's causing, in both Mark and Jeno, "Besides making a public statement, you need to find a way to fix your—our family's—reputation with the majority."

At his father's expectant, almost pleasant, smile, Jeno squirms in his seat; clearly, for once in his life, he's supposed to come up with the right solution. After a beat of silence, where he toys with his food and Mark looks like he's trying to convey something to him that he can't decipher, he ends up saying, "How?"

For a moment, his father's smile shifts into a sharp frown. Then he shakes his head. "I already have people contacting the model," he says. "For the sake of your reputation, we’ll need you to look committed, a respectable member of society. A few candid shots in public, a couple interviews... It’ll be good for publicity on both ends, I suppose.”

Jeno knows he isn’t the brightest like Mark, but he can put two and two together. He drops his fork on the table with a loud clatter.

"What are you suggesting, father?” he asks bluntly.

Just as bluntly, his father says, “Well, for you to date Jaemin Na, of course.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> soooo, i understand that some things here aren't totally plausible (for example, chenle being a CEO as a minor) and the reasoning behind nomin needing to date is a bit...weak. but this is called fanfiction for a reason!
> 
> otherwise, thanks for checking this out and hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are appreciated \o/


End file.
